


now my neck is open wide (begging for a fist around it)

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Series: Make It Hurt: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Assassination Attempt(s), Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Claude von Riegan Backstory, Discrimination, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, First Meetings, Gen, Injury, Language Barrier, Light Angst, My Unit | Byleth Being My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Support, it's subtle but it's there, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26460745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: Byleth was picking berries when she found him - a young boy, around her age, injured and being chased in the woods. It's only logical to help him.Little does she know, it's one of those decisions that will follow her long into the future.-Written For Whumptober Day 7: I’ve Got You
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Series: Make It Hurt: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915390
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	now my neck is open wide (begging for a fist around it)

**Author's Note:**

> hey i have no idea what this is but take it

Byleth was picking berries when she heard it; rustling leaves, like an animal running through the brush.

Immediately, she tensed up, hand going to the hilt of her sword when she heard it. After all, there was no telling what it could be - one of the mercenaries looking for her, stray animals, or bandits looking to attack merchants.

_Shwff, shwff, shwff._

It was getting closer, now.

Byleth looked around, and a flash of gold was all the warning she got before something ran into her, sending her to the ground. A pained cry echoed through the air.

Blinking, Byleth looked down. There was a bundle of gold, green and grey in her lap, with a curly mop of brown hair. It took her a moment to realize it was a person, smaller than her. She didn’t have much time to look at anything else before the kid scrambled to their feet. There was faint shouting in the distance. Byleth noticed several things in quick succession.

One: the stranger had light brown skin and sharp, viridian green eyes.

Two: once they locked eyes, the stranger’s eyes grew wide, and fear flashed across their face as they took a step back, shifting into a fighting stance.

Three: They were red, with a large cut on his cheek and a dark red stain on his chest, one hand pressed to the grey tunic he was wearing. Blood, Byleth realized belatedly.

“Hey, kid, are you okay?” Byleth asked, before remembering that shit, she was in Almyra and didn’t speak any Almyran, and Almyrans usually didn’t speak Fódlandi. Damn language barriers.

More rustling, and shouting that Byleth couldn’t decipher, but it was suddenly very loud, close. The boy tensed, his head snapping to look behind him, before he turned and started stumbling forwards, tripping over himself. He was wheezing in pain, and didn’t make it very far before he collapsed to the ground, panting. Byleth rushed over to him, dropping down next to him and trying to recall the healing magic Alyissa taught her. But when she went to check on the boy’s wound, he slapped her hand away.

“Don’t,” he hissed out in a cracking Fódlandi accent. Byleth blinked, and only had five seconds to be surprised before the shouting grew louder, coming from right behind her. The boy’s eyes blew wide, and he started scrambling backward, but his attempts were futile.

Frowning, Byleth looked over her shoulder, startling. There were three people behind her, tall, muscular men with sharp swords and sharper axes, and wearing armor. They were talking in a language she didn’t understand, but one of them held out a hand, fingers twitching in a beckoning motion.

Now, Byleth may not be skilled in language or remembering stuff or social interaction. But even without that, she could tell that they wanted something.

She glanced at the boy behind her. His eyes were wide, body shaking, and Byleth could tell he was terrified.

Those people wanted Byleth to hand him over to her.

Narrowing her eyes, Byleth turned to face them, and she shook her head.

An uproarious shouting came from the men, expressions darkening. One of them took a step forward, drawing a sword out from its sheath.

Unfazed, Byleth drew her own, poising it in front of her body.

“Stay away from him.” They may not be able to understand her, but it’s the thought that counted.

More talking. They were getting angry, Byleth could tell it in their body language. They were shouting now, and Byleth could tell from their tone of voice what they were saying wasn’t nice.

Byleth put her free hand to her mouth and whistled twice, sharply, and high. If any of her father’s mercenaries were around, they’d hopefully hear it and come looking for her. Backup was always nice in a fight.

One of them tried sidestepping Byleth, probably to get to the boy behind her. Byleth brandished the sword to the side, positioning her body so it was in front of the boy.

That was apparently the last straw for them.

The man in the middle, with the large battleax, roars, lifting it up. But Byleth, quicker and smaller than him, pivots and raises her own sword to block. The ax clangs against her sword, reverberating in her bones. With a grunt, Byleth pushes him backward.

_So that’s how they want to do it, hmm?_

She moves before they do, skipping to the side and darting past them, speedy as a panther. Once she’s passed them, she turns, slicing at the exposed knees of the middle man. He lets out a cry, dropping to the ground and, presumably, cursing. Byleth had heard their interpreter, Faadi, say some of those words.

As the other two turned, Byleth raised her sword, shifting into a stance, ready to fight.

The man on her left, with the sword, moves first, darting forward, sword swinging out in an arc. Byleth parries the attack, the sound of steel against steel ringing out against the forest, and Byleth backs up, sword poised to attack.

She makes quick work of them, taking them down like she does any common bandit. When she’s done, she looks back to the boy and sheathes her sword, kneels down.

He’s looking at her with wide, green eyes and a gobsmacked expression on his face, jaw open. Now that she could get a better look at him, Byleth realized that there was also a cut on the pants he was wearing, a small splatter of blood on the ground right by the cut.

“Are you okay?” Byleth asks, tilting her head and trying her best to not seem intimidating - she’s been told that enough. Noticing the red stain on his chest, she frowns. “Are you injured?”

“Why… why did you help me?” The boy asks, a defensive, wary edge to his voice.

“You look like you needed it,” Byleth said. “Are you injured?”

The boy’s eyes narrow, and he sits up, grunting, and puts a hand on his chest, sitting up. “What’s it to you?”

“My father’s mercenary group is nearby, and Alyissa is a good healer. She’ll fix you right up.”

“I’m Almyran.”

“So? You’re still a person.”

The boy blinks, posture tense, but there’s something in his eyes that Byleth can’t discern. After a few seconds, his gaze darts towards the fallen attackers, back up to Byleth.

“I’ll come, but I’ll only see your healer,” he says after a few seconds. Byleth nods - she can work with that.

“Follow me,” She says, extending a hand, before her gaze travels down to his leg. “Do you need help standing?”

“I’m fine,” the boy protests, pushing himself up, but he wobbles, looking like he’s about to fall. Byleth steps forward, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think you are.”

The boy looks at her, eyes narrowed, before he lets out a sound that could either be a small sigh or a soft huff or maybe laughter. It’s hard for her to tell.

“Fine,” he says. “Help me if you want to. Or don’t. Just don’t get any bright ideas.”

Byleth isn’t quite sure what he means by that, but it doesn’t really matter, and moves to the right side of his body, since the cut is on his left leg. She takes the boy’s hand, wrapping it around her shoulders, and then wraps it around his waist. After a second of hesitation, the boy started to lean on her, just slightly, his free hand pressed to his chest.

She turns, steering them in the direction of the camp and making an arc around the attackers, still knocked out cold. The boy’s gaze lingers on them as they pass by, before he looks up at Byleth.

“You took them down really well. You know how to use a sword?” He asks, a tiny bit of curiosity at the edges of his voice. Byleth nods.

“I’m a mercenary. My father’s mercenary troupe is protecting some merchants traveling from Derdriu to the capital from bandits,” she replies.

“Mercenary, huh? So you’re from Fodlan?”

She nods.

“Anywhere specific?”

She shakes her head. “Traveled too much to call anywhere home.”

“What’s your name?”

“Byleth,” She says, then after a moment, tacks on, “Eisner. Yours?”

“Khalid.”

“Do you have a last name?’

“It’s… not important. How old are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Byleth shakes her head. “When you’re a mercenary, age doesn’t matter - it just shows how long you’ve been alive. If I had to guess, somewhere between twelve and and fifteen - that’s what Yumiri says. He’s been with us for twelve years, so I have to be twelve at the least.”

“It’s odd that you don’t know you’re own age, Byleth. I’m eleven, and I’m turning twelve in the Blue Sea Moon. You have any parents?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Khalid.” Not that she minds, she supposes - there’s no one else in the mercenary troupe about her age, and there’s only a handful of people that talk to Byleth even if they don’t need to. Most of them are intimidated by the quiet killer child Jeralt had seemingly picked up from somewhere unknown.

Khalid shrugs. “I’m a curious person. Parents?”

“My father, Jeralt. He’s the leader of our troupe.” She frowns, looking at the ground. “I never knew my mother. I guess she died when I was a baby. Father gets sad when he talks about her, so I don’t bring it up much.”

“Oh - that’s sad. I haven’t lost either of my parents, yet, so I don’t really know what’s that like.”

Byleth shrugs. “It’s fine. Like I said, it’s not as if I knew her.” A pause. “I would’ve liked to, though.”

“What about siblings? Do you have any siblings? I have a younger sister, she’s the cutest thing in the entire world, and an older brother who's kind of a jerk but he's also pretty cool, and two half-siblings, both older than me.” _Now that Khalid has accepted her help,_ Byleth realizes, _he’s very chatty. Eager to talk to someone,_ she thinks.

“No.”

“What about hobbies?”

“I like to fish, and I like to train.”

After a second of silence, Khalid speaks up again. “Is that all?”

“...Cooking, I suppose. I’m bad at it, though. Vannika says I’ll get better over time.”

“Cooking is hard. Mom doesn’t let me cook yet, but I really think I should start learning how!” He grumbles something Byleth doesn’t understand under his breath, maybe a curse.

The walk continues like that, with Khalid shooting Byleth question after question, and Byleth asking a few of her own to the boy. But his strength is waning as they walk, and by the time Byleth can hear the chatter of the mercenaries, he’s gone a lot more silent, almost all of his weight on Byleth now. It’s troubling, so she gently sets him against a tree a few feet away from the camp.

“I’ll be right back - I’m getting Alyissa,” She says. Khalid nods, dark skin seeming a few shades paler or lighter than it had before, and the stain on his chest had grown. “Don’t die on me, okay?”

“‘M tryin’,” the boy says, voice weak, so Byleth turns and rushes into the camp. The camp’s dog, a Golden Retriever aptly named Goldenrod, bounds over to her, barking and tongue lolling out her mouth.

“Hey, kiddo, there you are!” One of the older mercenaries, Aleksi, says, and Byleth looks over to him. The dark-haired man is waving at her, an iron boot in his hands. “Good timing - dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’ll eat later. Where’s Alyissa?” She asks, walking over to him. Aleksi blinks, before pointing to his left.

“In the green tent, treating the wound that Burksi got fending off those last bandits.” He furrows his brows, looking at Byleth. “You okay, kiddo? You aren’t injured, are you?”

“No,” She says, before leaving in the direction of Alyissa’s tent, Goldenrod chasing after her.

There’s quiet chatter coming from inside, and Byleth pulls the flap back, stepping inside the tent. One of the brawlers, Burksi, is sitting on the portable cot, with Alyissa applying some sort of salve to his leg. The greenette looks up at the sound of Goldenrod’s bark, though.

“Good afternoon, squirt. Ya coming to chit, or do ya need somethin’?” Alyissa says, straightening up while Burksi continues rubbing the salve on his leg.

“I found a kid in the forest - he was being chased by someone, and he’s injured. Needs a healer,” she explains. Alyissa blinks, before frowning.

“Well, where is he?”

“Not too far from here - he only wanted to talk to you. I think he’s worried,” Byleth says. “Can you help him? It’s bad.”

Alyissa nods. “Sure thing, squirt. Take me to ‘em, hmm?” She turns to Burksi. “Keep rubbing, darlin’.

Byleth does, turning and exiting the tent, Alyissa right behind her and Goldenrod next to her. Byleth pauses at the front of the camp, turning to the dog, and holds up a hand.

“Stay,” She says, and Goldenrod pauses in her tracks, before sitting down. “Lay down.” The dog does so, and whines. Byleth gives her a quick scratch behind the ear. “I’ll be right back, girl.”

“How is it that ya make better friends with a dog than a kid your age?” Alyissa asks, shaking her head. Byleth shrugs and steps back, before turning to take her back to where Khalid was at.

He’s still against the tree where Byleth left him, eyes closed, but they peel open when he hears them coming and shifts a little, groaning. Next to her, Alyissa puts a hand to her mouth.

“Oh. Got yourself in a righ’ mess ya did there, squirt,” she says, walking over to him. “Who does tis kinda stuff to a squirt like you, hmm?”

“Squirt?” Khalid groans as Alyissa kneels down next to him. “Is this some kind of Fodlan thing?”

“No, it’s just how she speaks,” Byleth says, kneeling next to him. “You get used to it.”

“Oi, squirt, think ya got enough energy to take ya shirt off?”

Khalid’s face flushes a few shades darker. “W-what?”

“I ain’t gonna be able to treat the source of ya injury if I can’t see the damn thing, squirt. So, can ya take it off, or do I gotta cut ya outta’ it?”

“T-this doesn’t really seem appropriate, you know.”

“I’m a girl healer in a ban’ of mercenaries almost completely run by guys. I seen it all, squirt, and Jeralt’s girl don’t give a damn about propriety. So, what’s ya answer, hmm?”

“I can take it off,” Khalid said after a few seconds, the dark in his cheeks still not quite gone. “Might need some help, though.”

With Alyissa’s help, the boy was able to take off the shirt, revealing a long, thin slash running across his chest, bleeding slowly. Alyissa whistles and Khalid winces, viridian green eyes flashing with fear. “Is that bad? Am I gonna die?”

“Nah - it’s not that deep. Just long. Still, ya pretty’ lucky to have made it this lon wit’out passin’ out from blood loss.” She leans forward, her hand glowing green with white magic, and Khalid’s eyes widen. Byleth leans forward, too - it’s always interesting watching Alyissa’s magic at work. She hasn’t quite gotten the handle on the details of healing magic down just yet. “It might sting a lil’ bit, maybe itch, but ya shoul’ be healed up pretty quick, squirt.”

They’re silent as the wound seals itself up, the skin stitching itself back together as Alyissa’s hand hovers over his chest. Once it’s sealed up, she pulls out a wipe from some pocket she has hidden in the mess of robes she wears, and wipes off the blood, before moving down to his leg.

Once she’s done, Khalid whispers out a small “Thank you.”

“Ain’t no problem, squirt. But be careful, hmm?” Alyissa responds, standing up. “Ya folks know where ya at? It’ll be gettin’ dark out soon. A prime time for bandits to attack.”

Khalid wraps his arms around himself and looks down. “I… I don’t. I got separated from them when… when the bandits attacked.” There’s a hesitance before that last sentence, but Byleth ignores it. “I don’t know where they’re at. I got lost running.”

Alyissa sighs. “Well then, I hope Poppy made enough food for one more.”

Khalid’s eyes snap up to her, immediately guarded, body tense. “What?”

“I ain’t leavin’ a squirt like ya out here over the night, especially without ya parents. Ya spendin’ the night with us.” Before Khalid could argue, the healer turned on her heel and headed back towards camp. Khalid’s gaze dropped down to meet Byleth’s.

“Is… is she serious?” He asked.

Byleth nodded. “Mm-hmm. She has a soft spot for kids. Do you like pheasant?”

Khalid blinked, arms still wrapped around himself, but he answered, “Y-yeah. But are you sure this is okay? I don’t need to intrude-”

“It’s one night. Come on, let’s go. Goldenrod is probably missing me.”

Before Khalid can protest, Byleth stands up and grabs his arm, tugging him to his feet and pulling him forward to the camp.

“W-wait! Who’s Goldenrod?”

“The golden retriever. If you like dogs, I think you’ll like her. She’s friendly.”

“What if dogs don’t like me?”

“She likes everyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you're writing whump and instead accidentally make a mini-series-
> 
> Continued on Day 9
> 
> [I Have a Tumblr!](https://ccwritesstuff.tumblr.com/)


End file.
